


Alcohol Poisoning Is A Thing That Could Kill You

by chocomintcookiedough



Category: Gintama
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom!Hijikata, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Sadist Gintoki on the action, Self-Harm, Top!Gintoki, please read author's note, you could say somewhere on harada's scale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26141752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocomintcookiedough/pseuds/chocomintcookiedough
Summary: They say it blinds you, clearly it helped in dampening the bruises the other left across Toushirou’s body.
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki
Comments: 10
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Contains a distorted view of relationship. Please read with caution. Don't say I didn't warn you.

It began a little something like this.

Gintoki always fucked him rough. He’d pin Toushirou’s head on the heaps of pillows and kept slamming his hips ruthlessly at the man underneath. No break, he’d fuck Toushirou until he’s satisfied and filled Toushirou’s hole to the brim with his cum. He cared not whether Toushirou reached orgasm himself or not. For the duration that he bought in the love hotels here and there of Edo, Gintoki fucked Toushirou ‘til the man can walk no more.

The silver permhead samurai would left marks; prints of his hands on Toushirou’s hips from gripping hard, sometimes around his neck. Not counting the bites and kisses scattered across the vice-chief’s skin. Do they hurt? Of course they do, if Toushirou ever focused on that trail of thoughts whenever he complied with the other’s beckoning call. Toushirou never focused on that, no, his mind always wandered to the same place again and again.

Love.

They say it blinds you, clearly it helped in dampening the bruises the other left across Toushirou’s body. Gintoki always pinned him down, refusing to look at his face because Toushirou couldn’t help but being stricken by joy whenever Gintoki had sex with him. They were never pain, only pure bliss.

And Toushirou got a little too drunk from it.

When one day a raid gone wrong had resulted in him with his left arm in a sling and bandages wrapped around his head, Toushirou didn’t expect the invite from Gintoki. Surely with plaster still nursing the bruise on Toushirou’s cheek, Gintoki wouldn’t want him, right?

That moment when Gintoki took him to the hotel, injuries and all; Toushirou would love to reexperience that moment of realization again and again. Drinking in that apprehension of Gintoki desiring him when his own mind had expected the complete opposite. That had felt too good to be true. God must have really loved him because it only got better and better after that.

Gintoki never spoken much during their rendezvous, his sentences were clipped, and it saved the both of them from unnecessary foreplay. Because they didn’t start with a flirt, it was Gintoki pinning Toushirou in a dark alley one day and kissed the living daylight out of him. Just lust, always lust. Gintoki shattered every bits of expectation and normality that Toushirou knew when the man handled him with unrecognizable care. Gintoki usually either waited for Toushirou to strip down every article of clothing he wore on his own or ripped it apart because his impatience got the better of him. This time, however, the man helped Toushirou got the shirt off him. Guiding the injured arm lightly when he noticed Toushirou was making slow progress with taking it off.

The way Gintoki pushed Toushirou to fall on the bed was far gentler than the man usually did it. Rather than being pushed, it was like being eased while all along Gintoki kissing him deeply. His tongue prodded and he sucked at Toushirou’s lips. If it weren’t from the realization earlier, Toushirou wouldn’t have noticed the way Gintoki was careful to not press too hard on the bruised side of his cheek. Toushirou was more captivated by the disorientating _difference_ to properly enjoy this other side of Gintoki.

Gintoki said nothing as he coated his fingers with lube and prepped Toushirou open. There were not much difference from the pace of his fingers pushing, prodding, scissoring, to ease the muscle before the big guy coming. They didn’t exchange any words, nor did they exchange looks. Gintoki focused on peppering kisses across Toushirou’s chest, sucking on the pale skin. The fact that he favored the right side instead of the left didn’t escape Toushirou.

This was the first time that they did it missionary. Toushirou was grateful that neither of them were looking at each other, the warmth that had suddenly made its presence known inside Toushirou’s chest, had sneaked into a full burst of color across his entire body. The uninjured hand dug into the sheets, trying to keep hold of himself as Gintoki buries his cock deep inside Toushirou.

Not a single word, not a single look. Just the sound slick of Gintoki ramming it into Toushirou. They groaned and moaned into the silence. The new change of position had roused Toushirou pretty good that he cummed without even being touched. How embarrassing. But rather than smirking mockingly, the silver permhead above him just continued his pace until he released his loads inside the raven.

Realization truly sunk in as Toushirou washed himself afterwards. He always took a shower and left earlier than Gintoki. Whatever time that was left after their session was for Gintoki’s to use however the sugar addict like. Toushirou reassessed Gintoki’s action as he cleaned his body.

The next time they did another fucking session, Toushirou had fully recovered from injuries. Gintoki took him to another love hotel. When he twirled a pair of handcuffs with a slightly playful look, Toushirou knew he could only offer both his writs. He handcuffed him to the bedpost and proceed to fuck him ruthlessly. Toushirou took notes of his behavior while he stood under the shower.

The vice-chief of Shinsengumi was taken to the hospital again for another patching up. His back had gotten a pretty nasty slash from the terrorist during another raid. When Toushirou took off his shirt with a clear wince, he felt Gintoki’s eyes on his bandaged back. That night Toushirou rode Gintoki with his back facing the man the entire time. The way his hands on Toushirou’s hips, steadying him as he bounces on Gintoki’s lap, there were no bruising hand-prints afterwards. Instead, Toushirou felt fingers trailing his covered spine, and wet kisses around his neck.

Toushirou got extremely drunk after that.

He became a bit more reckless. He’d come back from a fight with more bruises than he should. When he came to Gintoki with white patches covering his skin, there was a brief second of an expression that Toushirou couldn’t decipher on Gintoki’s face. It vanished before he could read it. Not that it really mattered, what mattered to him was the way Gintoki treated him like fine china when he came a little more chipped than usual. It seemed like a little exchange was made. Gintoki no longer the one who left bruises on his skin. Gintoki became the one kissing those wounds. Toushirou felt giddy like a child, the way his late mother would kiss his bruised knee, magically whisking the pain away.

“Danna, normally I wouldn’t complain but don’t you think this is too sadistic already?” Gintoki didn’t understand what Souichirou-kun meant with that, so his words had fallen into deaf ears.

“Danna, I am under Fukucho’s instruction to not tell this to anyone but from my personal judgement I think I should let you know. We were close to defusing the bomb when Fukucho took it and told us all to scram.” Gintoki ignored whoever that Jimmy-kun person was saying in favor of finishing his dango.

Gintoki met Toushirou on his way home and the vice-chief looked like a patient who ran away from the hospital. The silver samurai didn’t rent a room at nearby hotel, he took Toushirou to his house that was empty from his brat for that night. Gintoki fucked him in the living room sofa. Toushirou had never came twice in all his time with Gintoki, not until that night. Twice because the first one Gintoki had so generously jerked him off while not breaking his kiss with Toushirou.

Toushirou healed. Then he got injuries again. Such is the life of the vice commander of the Shinsengumi. Chasing after terrorists, living under danger, constantly being targeted—both from enemies and from his own sadistic captain. Toushirou liked his way of life. It provided the perfect alibi.

Gintoki still took him to random cheap love hotels, but lately he took him to the Yorozuya Gin-chan as well. Gintoki fucked him into his futon once and it nearly broke Toushirou. How embarrassing, almost crying because Gintoki took him into _his_ bed for the first time. It smelled of him and that was all that Toushirou could think of the entire time. He couldn’t remember if he did cry or not. He had a concussion before that after all.

For every one week that it took for his injuries to heal, Toushirou wasted no time in getting another one in about four days. But that much of action in such a short time, not even the terrorists could concoct a plan and execute it that fast. So, it was only the natural solution for Toushirou to actively seek for suspicious activity. He upped his patrol schedule, sniffing across Edo for public disturbance. They were nothing but street rats doing either daylight or nighttime robberies.

It was somewhere nearing midnight, Toushirou hadn’t checked how close the alley was to Kabuki-cho. The robber had passed out from fright and the vice-chief clicked his tongue in annoyance at the cowardice. Agitation danced under his skin but it wasn’t just from the disappointing arrest. Desperation, no artificial drug could ever compare to that.

It was when Toushirou was just about to stab his own arm that he heard Gintoki’s voice.

“What are you doing, Hijikata?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He said all that but in the end he thought of it, didn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains a distorted view of relationship. Please read with caution. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Colors drained from Toushirou’s face. He froze, a quivering hand over his sword with a grip that was weakening by the second. Weird, despite everything draining from his entire body—felt like his own soul left as well—Toushirou couldn’t let go of the sword. He was stuck on that spot, eyes wide and manic at the sight of Sakata Gintoki on the entrance of the alleyway.

There was no salvaging, no covering the entire situation because it was as clear as daylight the way the vice-chief had the tip of his katana pointed over his left forearm. The picture could only be interpreted into one and only one meaning.

Toushirou couldn’t sober up.

Gintoki watched that blade pierced through the vice-chief’s arm. Blood trailed where the skin was teared open, pooling on Toushirou’s boots. Even from afar, the silver haired samurai could see the other’s shaking frame. Was it from pain? Or was it from something else? The glint in Toushirou’s eyes were unrecognizable.

“You..” Gintoki didn’t move an inch. His face twisted into a hard scowl.

Toushirou was too drunk to comprehend that anger. What was conveyed in that expression, the raven never got a chance to understand it. He had never said it, but right now, with one arm bleeding and desperation choking his windpipe, Toushirou felt like saying it.

“Will you.. take care of me?” Gintoki found his own body moving on its own. His leg took a couple strides before he stood right in front of Toushirou, who sagged onto the dirty ground with every inch that Gintoki got closer. By the time the permhead samurai met him, the raven had to pathetically look up. The moonlight reflected on that silver locks and Toushirou couldn’t help but twitched a smile.

Gintoki’s eyes were hidden by his bangs but Toushirou could feel the stare like multiple blades all over his body. That silent stare was more numbing and painful than his bloodied arm. Right. That silence. Ah, this was it, nothing would ever be the same, nothing Toushirou could do to undo this.

Why when they’re alone like this that the permhead bastard wouldn’t talk? They always had something to spit at each other’s face when everyone was around, why won’t the jerk say a thing right now? What’s even so different? Was it him? Was this pathetic side too much for the sugar freak to comprehend that it left the man speechless? Shouldn’t this just rile the samurai up like usual? Even screaming insults at him would’ve been better than this silence.

No, with the way the asshole kept staring at him, with that simmering anger, the man already spoke more than enough.

They were just strangers.

They _still_ were just strangers.

Both of them stayed in that position long enough for the cold sweat to wash over Toushirou’s insobriety. Gradually he came to his senses. He lowered his head, everything faltering slowly, then all at once. His eyes became wet and he couldn’t stop them from getting wet. Toushirou felt like choking. Hungover. Always the unpleasant aftermath.

Was it… — _then_ , it’s just him? But, he thought— … _Surely_. No… ?

Toushirou bit his lips, then he pulled out his katana from the wound. He sheathed it, the click of the blade meeting its scabbard could be interpreted as defeat itself. His left sleeve was completely soaked now, he should do something about it but Toushirou didn’t even have energy to feel the pain.

Sleep sounded very nice right now.

Toushirou was on the brink of passing out when Gintoki hauled him over his shoulder. Protests died in his throat immediately as the raven realized he was being carried by the other. What could he even protest about? He didn’t even know what to say, or even think for that matter. He laid limp over Gintoki’s broad shoulder. The jostling of his steps broke Toushirou out of his haze and he realized Gintoki was carrying him over a set of stairs. That realization came with another set; Gintoki was carrying him to his apartment.

_Why._

Toushirou questioned because he could never understand this man.

_Why._

Gintoki’s actions always seemed to contradict each other. He couldn’t understand it.

_Why._

Toushirou realized that he knew from the very beginning, there were only lust. Yet his heart ached all the same at every bit of Gintoki’s actions. Why is that?

Gintoki put him down on the sofa before leaving into the hallway. Toushirou stared at the afterimage of that man’s back. He cradled his left arm, he lost a significant amount of blood on the alleyway and on their way to the Yorozuya Gin-chan, but Toushirou wouldn’t want to impose, blood stains on sofa are the worst after all.

The silver permhead came back with a washbasin, a cloth, and a first-aid kit. The raven watched impassively as the other settled the things on the table and lowered himself close to inspect the wound. “Take off your shirt.” Toushirou blinked before hastily obliging, inhaled a sharp breath every time the pain surge through his body as he proceeded to discard his clothes. The raven focused on his own breath, not wanting to delve too much over how careful Gintoki was with cleaning his bloodied arm. The cuts weren’t long, but he had pierced his skin far enough that it had an exit wound. Toushirou saw the alcohol, the thread, the needle—Jack-of-all-trades indeed, huh.

Was it because they always twist their words into constant bickering, trying to up the other one with each sentence that come out of their mouths? They fight and proclaim it to the entire room how much they loathe the sight of the other, leaving no room for anyone to suspect otherwise. Was that the reason? Too many words already spoken in broad daylight so when it was just the two of them like this, words failed them. This darker side of the moon kind of situation.

Gintoki shoved a rag into his face and Toushirou knew, so he bit into it. That was as much as a ready signal he could give wordlessly like this. He didn’t look at Gintoki stitching his wounds. Focus on the pain, the white blinding searing pain—don’t think about the silver permhead who’s doing it without saying anything, asking anything. Don’t think of what the guy’s reason would be—why would he do this when Toushirou was the one wrecking his own body. Don’t think.

He said all that but in the end he thought of it, didn’t he?

Toushirou felt dirty. He’s angry at himself for only feeling dirty now. Since the very beginning it was a secret meant to stay behind closed doors hidden by night. Nothing more, Toushirou was selfish for wanting more. He really was desperate, wasn’t he? This all sobering thoughts, ironic isn’t it, when just an arm-length away from him there was a bottle of alcohol Gintoki had just used to clean his wounds. He really didn’t understand this man at all. He lied to himself, deluded himself that he knew of this silver haired samurai. But really, he knew nothing of Sakata Gintoki. Not now, not before, certainly not after this.

The pain ceased and Toushirou woke from the last ghost touch of Gintoki on his arm. His whole frame was shaking from the stitching, energy exhausted from biting too hard on that rag. Toushirou tried to look at the man, trembling and all. Despite everything, regardless of everything, Toushirou wanted to thank him.

“Th—” He wetted his lips, swallowed his quiver, then tried again. “Thank you.”

He already lost his face in front of this man, so what’s more to lose? He’s already trash. Toushirou didn’t care if this look of him disgust Gintoki, it certainly disgusted himself—it didn’t matter, what’s more to lose when you have none?

Toushirou still couldn’t read Gintoki’s expression. He broke the eye contact to put his shirt back one. Gintoki didn’t seem to pay him anymore attention as the man stood to put away the washbasin and all. Toushirou fumbled on the buttons, _damnit_ , why was his body shaking so much? After taking longer than it normally should, he managed to put his white button-ups. Toushirou decided to forgo the vest, he’d have wear the coat to hide the red-stained sleeve, though. He was about to gather the rest of his clothing when the gold-embroidered black coat was snatched in front of his hand. Toushirou could only watch as Gintoki took his clothes away and threw it on the dirty clothes bin.

Was he—that means…

Toushirou then noticed the folded white kimono left on the sofa next to him. Did he leave that while he took away his clothes?

“Change into that.”

The order was crystal clear, but Toushirou couldn’t understand a damn thing about it. He picked the kimono and saw the swirling pattern on its sleeve, Toushirou could not understand. This kind of frustration that made you want to lash and cry. He took everything in him to muster the self-control he needed to not show anymore disgusting sight at Gintoki. Hold yourself a little bit more.

If Toushirou were still drunk; oh, the thoughts that flashed across his head. If he knew that a stab to the arm was all that it takes to be able to wear Gintoki’s kimono. Toushirou couldn’t stop himself from taking a sniff and he really shouldn’t have done that. He really cried now. How fucking pathetic.

He heard the washitsu door opened and immediately turned to the source of the noise. Toushirou quickly wiped his face, Gintoki saw all that, he must have. “Come here.”

Hesitant at first, but Toushirou followed the instruction. Gintoki had prepared two futons for them, placed closely near each other. The raven drown more in his thoughts, so much so that he felt himself being nailed on the spot. Gintoki paid no attention and made himself comfortable on his futon. Those maroon eyes were closed as he patted the futon next to him, gesturing Toushirou to follow the same. If this were a dream, if all this were to be snatched right under his feet.

Toushirou made it next to Gintoki’s futon but he couldn’t bring his body to move any more than that. Sliding under that would mean something, accepting Gintoki’s invite would mean something. Toushirou still yet to understand that something, he couldn’t just carefreely dove into this false hope because he didn’t know if he can recover from the fallout.

Toushirou broke down in front of Gintoki.

“I can’t—I can’t do this anymore… Whatever _this_ is—” Toushirou crumbled, he wailed whilst gripping tightly on the sheets. He could feel Gintoki’s stare boring hole into the top of his head. “We always fight, then you had sex with me—You hate me, but I don’t want—” He choked on a sob.

“I don’t want you to hate me…” He felt like a kid who couldn’t understand why the other kids broke his toy, why did they kick him, why did they have to hate him. He knew he was the son of a mistress, from a very young age, Toushirou knew of those kinds of eyes. That contempt, he grew up with adults always giving him that look. As a child he didn’t know any better than to hide behind his mother, or then hid behind his brother. But he was just a kid, even after he slashed those people to protect his brother, he was still just a kid when he got thrown away then and there. Though he did survive with thorns that instill fear over everyone that would dare to get even remotely close to him, truly Toushirou was the one who got hurt from the very beginning. These thorns, these barbed wires, he stole them from people who hurt him because they were kinder than the hatred in those eyes.

“Everyone else… — _just_ not you, not you…” He pleaded, if Gintoki wanted him on his knees begging Toushirou would do it in a heartbeat, because he could feel the other balancing on that hatred. He thought he could handle that look that he had grown oh so accustomed to, Toushirou had seen the way Gintoki bore his contempt at others and Toushirou thought, he’d probably kill himself if he ever got to be on the receiving end of that look. To this man that he constantly fought, whose soul drawn him too close to the sun, to the one that he had fallen in love with; Toushirou couldn’t bare to be hated by Gintoki.

“Toushirou.” He answered by looking up. Gintoki had never called his name.

“I don’t hate you,” Gintoki pulled him close and cradled his face, forcing him to stare right into those blood red eyes. “I love you.”

Words failed him, completely. Toushirou surrendered to his own plea and fell voluntarily into Gintoki’s hold. Happiness couldn’t even describe it enough.

“I would never hate you.” Gintoki’s words were like molasses, sweet, and so were his kisses. Gintoki kissed him relentlessly, gentle and rough blurring into one. He gave Toushirou only enough rooms for a mouthful of air, not enough to respond in words. It’s fine by him, Toushirou didn’t have anything else to say after all.

The kisses trailed to his neck, Gintoki sucked into the juncture of his collar and left a mark, one of soon-to-be many. He was hesitant at first but when Toushirou didn’t receive any objects from the silver haired samurai, he fully buried his face on that curly mop. His fingers laced through that untamed hair, savoring the moment, the pure bliss of it. He’s so loved, _so so loved_.

Toushirou straddled Gintoki’s lap under the silver samurai’s command. Those hands of his rubbed over both of Toushirou’s thigh, snaking its way to cup, knead, and spread his ass. The raven broke a whine into silver hairs. “G-Gin... “

The white kimono pooled on his waist after being shrugged by Gintoki who was now sucking on Toushirou’s nipple. He lapped at the bite mark he had just left there. That one had jerked Toushirou into pleasure. His fingers were already fucking Toushirou’s hole, stretching him wide. The raven melted with every touch he received from the other. Gintoki let him moan into his silver hair and Toushirou felt incredibly loved. _So utterly loved_.

The emptiness he felt when Gintoki pulled out his fingers were quick to be dismissed as he felt the tips of Gintoki’s cock lined with his rim. In one swift motion he was plunged down until the base. Even after doing it countless of times, it still felt incredible every single time. Gintoki gave him a momentary time to adjust before pushing him down so that he was now on top of him. His thighs were than lifted high up until they were over Gintoki’s shoulders. The position had Toushirou’s back bent in strain but Gintoki’s hands were there to prop him. This way, there were no hidings, his face was bare for Gintoki to look, just as much as Gintoki’s was to him. That thought alone surge right to his aching length.

Gintoki started his thrusts, picking up speed in no time. It wasn’t that he’s impatient. While true that he was an impatient child-man that he always proclaimed, Toushirou had noticed that it was just the way he liked it, that was just the beasty side of Sakata Gintoki taking hold of the man’s body. This far into their blossoming relationship, there was no way Toushirou hadn’t come to love the demon as well.

“I love you,” Gintoki always knew where to hit his spot. “love you so much, I will take good care of you because you’re mine.” The silver glow shining Gintoki’s back made him look almost ethereal. “No one can touch you, or hurt you.”

“Gin—”

Toushirou choked on his scream. Gintoki had pressed the wound hard enough that it had reopened slightly, he could feel blood seeping through the bandages. “Not even yourself.” Toushirou couldn’t differentiate between pain and pleasure anymore.

Gintoki leaned close to kiss the corner of Toushirou’s mouth. Cock buried deep inside the raven in a pace that had Toushirou seeing stars.

“I'll take care of you because I was the one who _broke_ you in the first place.”

Yes.

Toushirou kissed the White Demon, Sakata Gintoki deeply, and this was their love story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something something about the buy it if you break it policy you see in stores  
> \--------  
> Thank you for reading! I look forward to your opinions! On the scale of 1 to Harada, where do you guys see this fic? Hahahaha


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